Desolation
by Ghost Duck
Summary: An unlikely event brings Wall•E and a lone scientist together. Alone on a barren Earth, they plan a way to escape a poor hand dealt by fate, while sharing some interesting conversation in between. Takes place pre-movie. Reviews and criticism wanted!
1. The Beginning

Opening Note: Huzzah! The first chapter of my first WALL-E fanfic! This story takes place approximately one hundred and fifty years before the events of the movie, making it EU. At this point in the altered continuity and timeline, Wall-E has not met Hal (the cockroach), Buy n' Large has abandoned Earth, and the other Wall-E units have been deactivated. As far as legal disclaimers go, I don't own Wall-E. Now, onto the bit people care about; the story itself.

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Desolation – Chapter One

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Desolate

_adj._

Devoid of inhabitants; deserted.

Barren; lifeless.

Rendered unfit for habitation or use.

Dreary; dismal.

Bereft of friends or hope; sad and forlorn.

It has been stated before by wiser men than myself that silence is golden, which is an exceptionally accurate statement. Both gold and silence are incredibly rare, incredibly sought after, and lead to incredibly improbable consequences. On the subject of the first, true silence is atypical enough that most if not all living beings progress through their entire lives without experiencing it. There is a difference between silence and true silence. True silence is an unnerving sensation; experienced only when there isn't another living creature around for miles, whereas silence is something you can enjoy in a local park. At one point or another, most living creatures also spend a good chunk of their time searching for a place where they can get away from the "hustle and bustle" of mainstream society, so they may fulfill some kind of unknown mental need. Those beings can never fully comprehended what true silence is due largely to the fact that only a handful of unfortunate souls throughout the course of human history have been forced to endure it. For you see, dear reader, true silence isn't the absence of noise; rather, it is the cold, lonely, and desolate state of being alone.

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The glowing white hot ball of hydrogen and various other gasses called the sun glanced tentatively over the eastern horizon. Its warming rays descended on the ruined landscape. The abandoned husks of skyscrapers and decaying trash towers absorbing the dawn's first light, preventing the heat and light from reaching the damp ground below. As it slowly rose in the sky, the sun's waves redistributed themselves and their intensity grew ferociously. The extreme, unforgiving light began to evaporate the last traces of the previous night's acidic rainstorms.

Thousands of plastic tags, bags, and shreds flapped gently in the damp daybreak breeze, as all natural and paper products had crumbled before the combined might of microbes and prowess of Mother Nature by this point in time. Few of these artifacts were on ground level; most if not all of these peculiar plastics were imbedded in the many obelisks jutting out of the city's ground level. These obelisks, upon further inspection, were towers; vertically ascending structures made out of hundreds upon hundreds of compacted cubes of trash. Throughout the entire abandoned city loomed at least a dozen of the aforementioned towers. Each tower's external surface aflutter and alive with thousands upon thousands of plastic bits flapping in the wind.

However, this quiet, surreal state was shattered by a great resonance felt throughout the city, accompanied by a storm of dull, varying thumps. After five and a half centuries of exposure to the intense elements, in addition to being constructed atop a decrepit water reclamation facility located deep within a superstore mall, the first garbage tower erected became the first to fall. After the concrete floor below the structure expired, the primary weight-bearing support blocks scattered into different component rooms in various directions; with its base gone the entire construct collapsed. While most blocks plummeted internally downwards and became imprisoned in the cavernous bowels of the water treatment facility and the basement of the mall, a good number tumbled outwards, particularly those towards the top of the now deteriorated spire. The blocks that dropped from the upper floors that did not land on or with their lower level counterparts proceeded to hurdle into the cityscape below. Their landings were marked by a series of loud crashes, thwacks, and thumps akin to that of rain; if rain was made of heavy cubes of scrap instead of water. Some of the garbage blocks impacted the streets arbitrarily, while others cracked upon the safety glass of nearby windows; a few with such force that the safety glass actually gave way to the small impromptu projectiles. The "calamity," if the term applies to an abandoned metropolis, lasted for the entirety of fifteen seconds.

After the copious amounts of dust stirred by the collapse began to settle, yet another odd sound echoed throughout the wasteland. A monotonous electrical buzzing originating from a rusted service truck spread outwards from a lofty perch on a fractured highway. The massive metallic door for the rusting truck began to descend slowly, unveiled as the source of the buzzing. Behind the now fully-lowered door stood the only sign of life in the entire city; a squat, cubical robot. The robot's two, slightly oblique, binocular-like eyes slanted outwardly, the lenses centered within shifting, as though adjusting to the light as the lens covers decreased the viewing range to a slit, presumably for magnification. The eyes at the body's peek sat upon on an adjustable metallic stalk, which lowered and stretched ever so slightly, almost as if the robot was straining to see something in the distance. The robot's dual treads kicked into motion, the many gears and intricate parts behind them meshing and operating in-synch to carry the automaton towards the commotion that had occurred inside the city, and away from the now closing storage truck door.

The fine coat of granular dust on the ruined highway adhered to the metallic treads, leaving a noticeably light trail of equally spaced tread marks wherever the robot moved. This trail began at the storage truck's now raised ramp, and grew in length as the machine ground its way towards an unknown destination at an impressive speed. The treads made no noise of protest as they carried their master across the dull landscape. Small debris on the ground, such as decaying aluminum cans and sandy styrofoam containers, were flattened by the contraption's weight.

Eventually, the metal creature arrived at the source of the racket; the megamall, in all of its capitalistic glory. After reaching the end of the asphalt and the beginning of the mall's tiled floor, the cubical mechanic slowly made its way through the boxy rubble. Using the two rectangular steel arms on each side of its body and the three flat "fingers" protruding from the end of the stubby appendages to reallocate some of the garbage boxes that completely blocked its path, the robot led itself on a convoluted tour of the mall, in the hopes of reaching the epicenter of the collapse. After three hours, this tour led the machine into a distant corner of the mall previously unreachable; locked down by Buy n' Large security. Due to the collapse of the garbage construct, however, the once impenetrable electrical barrier protecting this wing of the mall was absent entirely, the generator supplying power for it presumably crushed somewhere in the bowels of the subterranean water reclamation facility. The machine let out an emotion filled "Oooh," from its speakers as the robot's entire pose shifted slightly with its mood. The eyes slanted upwards, the equivalent of a human furrowing their brows when curious about something unknown.

This particular corner of the mall had something that made it unique. Something that made it stand out when compared to anything else the small automaton had ever seen before.

This corner was _clean_.

Not "clean," in the sense traditional sense of "no garbage," either. This was truly clean; it was sanitary, untouched by the cold hands of time, with dust and decay entirely absent. True cleanliness was unlike anything the robot had ever seen before, as it had lived out its hundreds of years of existence living among the scraps, waste, and remains of a previous civilization long since gone. A low hum was heard as ancient machinery stirred, and more of this strange luminescence appeared above the robot, which looked at the strange, odd-colored, and protruding plastics extending from the external wall above this newly open room. They glowed without the same sanitary feel, for without the electrical "force-field" barrier's protection the assault of foreign microbes was not repulsed. The machine hypothesized that these protruding, glowing symbols above the door were used to garner the attraction of humans and to designate this section as… whatever it was. The light these objects seemed to emit, the robot concluded, fell into the wavelength that humans would designate as "cyan." The newly-deemed cyan light bathed the short machine below it. It was surreal; so surreal, in fact, the small robot considered abandoning this area of the mall to continue his way to the now-ruined tower's base. However, being a machine, the miniscule brick of a robot decide to use logic to solve its dilemma.

According to its logic cores the roof above this given corner would collapse within the time frame of one-and-a-half to two standard hours as a result of the stress the broken garbage tower's remains added weight. Considering this a rare opportunity and knowing that it could revisit the epicenter site of the collapse later, the machine's curiosity got the better of it; it began slowly crawling towards the now open doorway…

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	2. The Corridor

Opening Note:

A hundred thanks to those reading the story and a thousand to those who have reviewed and set it to their alerts! I apologize for it taking so long for me to get this chapter up; most of my time was eaten up by ComicCon '08 in San Diego. On the subject of the story itself, I've tried to modify the feel of this chapter a bit. I'd like to thank an anonymous reviewer for pointing out the major flaws in the first chapter's flow. Please let me know what you think, as any and all thoughts, predictions, and criticisms of the story are welcome and wanted!

Have a nice day!

Ghost Duck

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Desolation – Chapter Two

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Grime. Who could have that known composite metal treads could congregate so much?

The diminutive robot felt the closest thing to embarrassment that a machine could feel as it made its way through this strange realm. Despite its best efforts to maintain itself in a fully-functional and fairly clean state, due to its given operating environment the latter had proved to be an insurmountable task for the automaton. Everywhere the machine moved in this sanitary room two parallel trails composed of dirt particles, caked mud, and various other discarded substances followed. The small boxlike robot continued its advance into the now tainted facility.

A plastic desk fashioned to emulate organic wood and a matching all-access hover chair sat centered in this room. To the rear of the hover chair was an elegant faux wooden double door. Embedded in concave groves in the desk's legs were two onyx-colored projectors. These projectors created a thin beam of red light three centimeters in diameter, bridging the gap beneath the desk. The brilliant positioning of the beam placed it within reach of both the supposed receptionist reclined behind the desk and anyone who entered the room and stood before the desk. In each of the floor's four corners lay an equivalent number of artificial plants jutting from holes built-into the floor. Most of the fair sized room was empty. And yet… the room visually felt crowded.

While the ground of this place contributed little to this sentiment, the walls were a completely different story. You see, the walls curved slightly at the base and peak for a certain aesthetic quality, and these curves effectively reduced the usable wall space by half of a meter. In a regular home or office this wouldn't be much of a problem. However, the proprietors' of this particular establishment had chosen to display the entirety of their company's history on four disproportionate walls. All of the traditional flat bits of the wall that were available were occupied with framed photographs and cropped plastic newspaper slices. Each and every framed scrap represented an event; a small footstep in the sandy desert of time. Processors inside of the minute robot mulled over a handful of these articles and photographs, attempting to find a link.

Several moments of scanning the closest display wall revealed a single common name repeated in all texts.

CryoApps.

The only thing in common that all of these relics shared was their relevance and nearly continuous reference to the same human phrase the machine had seen above the gateway to this abnormal locale, CryoApps. Although it was unsure what exactly "CryoApps" meant (all of the knowledge on the automaton's hard drive was related either to its original orders or self-acquired) the minuscule machine wanted to recall this wonderful place long after the roof above expired and it was crushed beneath several metric tons of garbage. A cylindrical appendage moved upwards to bring a single flat finger into contact with the first of three plastic squares on the outside of its body. After the pressure of the metal finger was removed a dull LED beneath this particular square clicked to life. The semi-translucent turquoise circle on the pressed button glowed to indicate operation and on-going filming. Everything the miniature machine saw was now being recorded directly onto a compact hard disk drive deep within the bowels of its processors. The binocular-like eyes gazed lazily around the room to relish and drink in the experience. The already sluggish movement of this mechanoid ground to a near-standstill. Its motion was unhurried; deliberate, as it were deep in contemplation. Only a single thought could be mused about this locale.

What could a place like this possibly be used for?

The small machine's mind raced through all of its limited data on humans and their creations. Of all its deduced and preprogrammed knowledge of humanity, there was not a single scrap of relevant information to be found. The only logical course of action that remained viable was to delve further into the room and travel under the desk. This would break the red infobeam, and hopefully trigger a long unseen advert that would shed some much-needed light on this cryptic facility. Although the cubical robot was still not sure it was comfortable further desecrating something as pure as this place, curiosity outweighed its respect for cleanliness. Besides, the small machine concluded, it hadn't been really sure or confident in anything it had done for roughly the past… five hundred and fifty years.

The lens covers that passed for eyelids on the small machine clicked shut once; the motors and gears inside of its mechanical neck joint pulled back in the robotic equivalent of pulling away from an unexpected and strange surprise. The void of silence returned once more as the robot halted its movement entirely to digest this new thought.

Had it really been that long?

The operational lifespan of a standard waste allocation load lifer Earth-class (or WALL·E, as the chipped paint on this unit's rusting chest proclaimed) was two-hundred years. Two hundred years from factory release with proper maintenance and no spare utilization. Two hundred years without having to cannibalize parts off of fellow comrades. However, this particular unit, WALL·E unit 1004, was anything but standard. 1004 was special in that it was an anomaly. A glitch in the incomprehensively large system. Proof that not even the cold, impersonal, and almost perfected assembly lines of Buy N' Large's Northern American Robotics Factory could not produce uniformity. When all other WALL·E units instantaneously shut down a great many years ago, doomed to dot the landscape forever as metallic monuments, 1004 endured. In the face of infinite, thankless labor it persevered. Even though it toiled endlessly to this day it still continued to toil. To say that 1004 was unique would be nothing short of an egregious understatement.

Five hundred and fifty years is a substantial amount of time. Substantial enough for unit 1004 to begin to question and find ways to dodge its directives. This was how it had come to be the ultramall in the first place. Its orders did not specify whether or not it could wander into human realms like this one, and 1004 took this to mean that it would face no disciplinary actions for doing so. Reminding itself of the lack of repercussions brought 1004 back to its current predicament. The solution to this problem had become obvious after contemplating the situation for additional time, though. 1004 knew it couldn't turn back now. It was devilishly curious about this room and the information needed to satiate this thirst was so close. 1004 made its decision then and there. The robot ground forward to and then though the red infobeam between the two leg panels of the desk. The infinitesimal robot broke the beam's continuity, triggering a holographic advert similar to the larger ones present almost everywhere else in the mall and in the ruined city. The machine rolled back out from under the desk just in time to see and hear the familiar jingle common to almost all adverts.

"Buy n' Large, is your superstore."

The ad began with the Buy n' Large logo, a red oval encapsulating the large and white letters B and L joined by a small blue circle with a minuscule white N inside, centered in a field of black. A panoramic birds-eye rendition of the ultramall in its prime flashed onto the projection replacing the logo. From the mall and the cities' state, 1004 deduced these particular clips must have been compiled at least five hundred years ago.

"We've got all you need, and so much more!"

The camera switched to an inside view of the store, positioned to show a single aisle with the first part of this song and panning quickly to show the multitudes of aisles with the second.

"Happiness is what we sell,"

While the plesant voices sung the jingle two grinning humans waved cheerfully to each other from behind fully loaded steel shopping carts.

"That's why everyone loves BNL!"

Hundreds of patrons and staff members smiled and waved at the camera. The Buy n' Large logo appeared just prior to the song's ending, and was replaced by stylized cyan text that read CryoApps on a white background. Two brief calm sounding notes played through the speaker, as the logo faded away with a misty flourish effect. A similar styled question mark replaced the logo.

A voiceover began to play, interrupting the machine's speculation. The artificial female voice sounded similar to a dippy tour guide as it spoke.

"Afraid of suffering an early death? Injured and can't recover? Have an incurable disease? If you answered yes to any of these questions, Cryogenics Applied can help you! CryoApps offers you and you loved ones a convenient way to escape a poor hand dealt by fate."

The question mark disappeared without transitions to be replaced by a still of a large room shaped like a long rectangle with one of the corners greatly curved. The still was taken in the corner diagonally opposite the curved corner, a great distance away. The elongated wall on the right side of the room was composed entirely of reflective windows. All of the space in the rest of the room was occupied by a great number of cylindrical tubes jutting from the floor and extending towards the ceiling. These tubes had transparent windows likely composed of plastic, and charcoal colored steel comprising of the rest of their bodies. As far as 1004 could tell, all of them were empty. Plugging the estimated size of the room and the approximated size of the cylinders into its waste allocating formulas, the automaton calculated that there were at least sixty tubes in the room.

"Using top of the line technology developed by the former Stark Industries, CryoApps, a division of the Buy n' Large Corporation, is able to provide cheap and reliable cryogenic storage of any organism. The cryogenic freezing process is painless and has an amazing eighty four percent chance of success. To learn more, take a tour of our facilities." The elegant door behind the desk cracked open and the lights in the facility behind hummed to life.

While the door's opening slowly widened, the voice quietly chimed, "Tour available for an additional fee and obligatory upon inquiry." Conveniently the noise caused by the door's opening overshadowed this last disclaimer.

The voice returned to its original vigor after the doorway was fully opened. "Our friendly staff will be more than happy to answer any and all question you may have on this tour." The company logo returned to the screen. Two notes heard at the beginning of the advert rung out once again. "Thanks for listening! Remember; when you need to take an icy nap, make your first choice CryoApps!"

The holographic screen flashed the BNL logo once more and collapsed back into the projector hidden in the faux wooden desk. Unit 1004 saw none of this, however, as it was already seven feet inside the now revealed hallway. There may not have been any humans to guide it on a tour of this place but the cubical robot was determined to learn more.

The hallway itself was as strange as the vestibule preceding it. It was no more than two meters wide but had a copious length. Unit 1004 moved at a schizophrenic pace through the hallway as it waited for the long deactivated and still dull ceiling lights to come alive. Typically, it would move forward a few meters, stop, wait for the next light to activate, and repeat, each cycle consuming roughly seven seconds.

Everything changed halfway through the hall.

Ceiling-mounted fluorescent tubes buzzed to life in the rooms surrounding the corridor. Prior to this occurrence 1004 had been unable to tell what the walls to its sides were composed of due to how weak the overhead lights were. It became instantaneously apparent though that the "walls" were actually windows since it would be impossible for light to reach the inside of the hallway otherwise. 1004 began to roll steadily towards the opposite end of the hallway since it now knew where the hall ended. It quickly passed the overhead lights struggling to lead the small machine. The robot decided to peek into the adjacent rooms while it ground its way towards its ambiguous destination. The whirring of the robot's neck and eye motors working in tangent to turn left was drowned out by its treads churning. The first thing about the left neighboring room that caught 1004's eyes was the sea of steel cylinders halfway lowered into the ground. Its eyes rotated one hundred and sixty degrees. The contiguous room to the right was almost identical to its left side counterpart with the exception of one detail. The thing that caught the small robot's eyes about this room was that a single cylinder was raised higher than the others.

1004 was so surprised it ran front first into a door. Its steel body was unfazed, though, and it backed up a meter to examine the door to find some way to open it. Glancing over the gateway the small machine silently wished the surge of power had caught up with it. Adequate lighting would make the chore of finding a button or lever a substantial amount easier. The buzz of hydraulics filled the air as its three fingers spread and began grouping the paper-textured metal for a release mechanism of some sort. Finally, the bottom flat finger on 1004's left hand found purchase on a glass touch panel. However, with no electricity, the small machine would have to wait before its prodding garnered a reaction.

As if on que the surge of power spreading throughout this secluded wing of the mall caught up with the lights above 1004. The door proceeded to whoosh open immediately as the energy coursed through its long-unused circuits. The cavernous area beyond the door was shrouded in pitch black dark. The automaton felt the cold tendrils of fear sneak into its metallic shell and grip its insides, causing it to shake ever-so-slightly. Just then a single light cut through the darkness of the room. This lone source of illumination was located in the heart of this room. Upon further inspection the source of this orange, fluctuating illumination was a button. 1004 had reached an impasse. Should it press the button and experience the unknown repercussions, or abandon this strange place while it still had the chance?

The intensity of the button's glow rythmatically increased and decreased. The button seemed to call out to the automaton hypnotically. It yearned to be pressed. Before it realized exactly what it was doing, 1004 unknowingly wheeled itself up to the control panel. The robot's right arm was poised above the button and the top two fingers were extended. Slowly and deliberately the joined flat steel wedges that were 1004's fingers depressed the button. The plastic device clicked as it met the bottom of its recessed mount. The robot withdrew its fingers and was met with an unfathomable result. Instead of causing an enlightening reaction the button did absolutely nothing. The tiny sole source of illumination extinguished unpredictably half a second later. The terrifying darkness enveloped the boxy robot once more. 1004 froze. After the shook wore off two seconds later the machine shot into action. By withdrawing it's mechanized arms into their respective tracks, pulling its fingers flush to its frame, retracting it's treads inside of it's shell, and doing the same with its eyes the small robot became a cube similar to those it created via compacting scraps. Still and silent 1004 waited in the dark for a change. It couldn't detect a single noise in this place. The machine's processors raced, fueled by anxiety and fear of the unknown, and it began contemplating various ways it would escape this wretched place.

And then there was light.


	3. The Revival

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Opening Note:

Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed, set this story to their alerts, and done more (such as favoring). For the record, I believe that it is worth noting that I personally envisioned 1004 being pronounced as "ten-oh-four." You're obviously free to call "it" whatever you please, that's simply the way I prefer. I apologize in advance for any spelling errors; I'm using a wonky version of Office 2007 that has a nonexistent spell check. Enjoy this chapter, and please let me know what you think!

Have a nice day.

-Ghost Duck

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Desolation – Chapter Three

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The first way that 1004 knew that the light had returned was the mechanical stirring above that signaled the reactivation of long-unused technologies. The second sign that the light had returned was the light itself. While it was still encapsulated in cube form the illumination from elsewhere in the previously dark area infiltrated the robot's metallic shell through the hairline spaces that allowed it to shift about and fit inside of the aforementioned shell. The illumination was comforting, and prompted the machine to slowly return to its compacted and unhindered regular state. The small machine's eyes raised out of the cube shakily, unprepared for whatever sites they were about to face. 1004 relaxed its arms as well, allowing the two rectangular beams and attached fingers to fall gradually to the ground. To say this room's contents were surprising to the small automaton would be an egregious understatement, to say the very least. The robot let out a soft, "Oooooooh," of wonderment.

The room in itself was quite copiously proportioned. With an impressive ceiling height of seven meters and an excessive floorspace of ten meters by ten meters, it made perfect sense that 1004 couldn't see the walls with the very limited lighting that he was provided with at first. The primary source of illumination in this room was a massive circular halogen light, divided into four quadrants. The halogen lamp was built-into the very roof of this facility for added strength. 1004 headed to the right of the button and console it had used upon entry so it could explore the rest of the room. The automaton's height fluctuated drastically for a moment as it brought its treads out from under it to relocate them to their regular location outside the body. Every solitary and unmoving aspect of the room appeared to be symmetrical. All four walls were adorned with a myriad of technical buttons, levers, screens, and the like. Every available screen sported the Buy n' Large logo that appeared almost everywhere in the decaying city. Notably, there was only one chair, stationed at a desk shared with input console. Both the input console and the rolling seat nearby were built into the wall exactly opposite the door through which 1004 entered. The fluctuating crimson button that 1004 had pressed upon entry into the room had disappeared silently into the unseen bowels of the facility along with its unique stand while the machine had rolled over to and began tinkering with the desk and all items in proximity. While modifying the height of the cushioned chair, a familiar voice caught the machine's attention.

"The system recovery from standby mode is complete," the artificial and cheery voice from the lobby chimed. The small automaton eyed the wall-mounted speakers pensively. "Computer status at time of standby mode initiation recovered with ninety-nine point eighty five percent accuracy. Point fifteen percent accuracy lost due to memory corruption. The vocal input system and touch-sensitive console are now both active and awaiting input."

Unable to communicate accurately with its limited vocabulator and speaker system, 1004 decided to direct this cryptic machine with the only other available option. The cubical robot maneuvered itself directly in front of the desk to manipulate the touch screen. Finding its default configuration height to be inadequate 1004 shifted its treads to add an additional two-thirds of a meter to its already fair elevation. This heightened state put a relatively high strain on the robot's treads and made movement nigh impossible but was impeccably suited for a task like standing at an equal level to the flat touch display.

1004's optical sensors skimmed over the screen. The screen was designed with aesthetics in mind for the benefit of the humans who would operate it. Almost every square centimeter of the screen was filled with brightly colored decorative bloom that would greatly confuse anyone who wasn't well-educated about the interface. The background itself was a black star field with an aurora ranging from blue to pink consuming the upper two thirds of the background. A great number of icons were in a row formation, concentrated in a single bar on at the bottom of the screen. Due to a lack of informative text 1004 was clueless as to what any of the icons represented. At a complete loss as to what to do logically, 1004 did the only thing it could do in this situation. A single click was heard as the lens covers protecting the machine's delicate optical sensors snapped shut and impacted each other in the process. Two wedge-shaped steel fingers constricted while one descended on the screen's flat plastic. A lone chime pierced the air signifying some kind of reaction. The symbol pressed lightened significantly as a white square outline with the edges rounded appeared around it.

"Initializing reversal of cryonics process in all cryopreservation stasis units. One occupied CSU remains." The mechanical voice paused for a moment as it ran various calculations. A faint rumbling could be heard from the unseen bowels of this chamber. After what seemed like an eternity to the small robot, the computer voice returned "CSU relocation to primary release bay imminent. Estimated time until full body vitrification is approximately one minute." As if on cue a loud hiss resonated from behind 1004. The startled machine immediately attempted to turn to investigate the noise. However, trying to rapidly rotate one hundred and eighty degrees proved to be quite troublesome for the cubical robot with its treads in their heightened position. Attempting to make the turn caused the sensation that its treads were actually snapping under the pressure, causing 1004 to immediately retract them inside of its metal casing. With its momentum completely unaffected by this change and no treads to slow it down, the small machine flew forward a meter towards the sound of the hissing and clattered onto what it presumed to be the floor. Its optical lens covers that had shut tightly milliseconds prior to impact for protection slowly opened. 1004 expected to have the onyx-colored plastifloor fill its optical sensors.

Instead the automaton was greeted with an up-close view of a human face.

The reaction of the small machine was as close to instant as possible. Using its twin hydraulic arm shovels as springs the cubical machine sprung to its upright position. Its treads, relocated to their regular place over the course of a handful of milliseconds, carried 1004 away from the now half-risen steel cylinder. The area was filled with the sound of mechanical movement as the fearful and anxious robot drove to the door of this room. Upon finding its only escape route to be sealed, the automaton reversed direction and began driving circles around the ever-rising cylinder as it searched for a hiding spot. Its optical sensors detected a decent place with slightly less lighting than everywhere else in the chamber after three frenzied rotations. The cubical robot's arms, eyes, and treads moved into their compact form for the second time in this room. Although this was a shoddy hiding spot at best there nothing else in the room was usable. The boxlike robot scooted under the room's only desk. The speedy movement toppled the rolling chair placed before the desk with a thud. The hissing managed to drown out the thump of plastic meeting plastic as the chair impacted the ground. The cubical robot waited there in silence as the hissing continued to stir from the heightened metallic cylinder.

The container itself was familiar; 1004 was almost certain that this was the same cylinder that it had seen raised in the preceding corridors. The design was plain with charcoal-tinted steel composing the main body. A transparent rectangle of plastic made up the centered top of the tube. Accordingly, this window consumed at least thirty percent of the canister's upper surface area. Framing this rectangle on all sides was a thin line two centimeters away from the plastic. The end caps of the aforementioned cryotube were bristling with ports and slots. Metal claws lodged in these ports on either side of the cylinder managed to suspend the contraption above the floor. Each claw was equipped with a pair of see-through hoses that ran directly from the shift-able plastic floor and into the base and head of the cryotube.

The optical sensors of the small robot peeped timidly over its rusty body to watch the shaky movement of the flexible ridged piping. The hoses' constant vibration only hinted at the quantity and force of the liquids traveling through them. Strapped into their respective rectangular claws' sheaths with rubber o-rings, the tubes seemed to struggle against the forces that pinned them. The pipes continued to warble as 1004 watched in mesmerized fascination. Eventually, all that remained of the flow of cyan and burgundy liquids was a scattered amount of droplets that had somehow clung to the ribbed tubes. To 1004's bewilderment, the hissing ceased as well. The thought of approaching the cylinder had just crossed the cubical robot's mind when an ear-splitting crack shattered the newly formed silence.

The plastic lid of the cryotube sunk into its frame and slid right. A gaseous, light blue fog seeped out of the ever-growing gap between both sides of the cylinder's aperture. With the clear barrier now fully concealed inside the steel walls of the cryotube, the once sheltered content of the steel cylinder was exposed directly to the intense artificial light from halogen lamp above. From 1004's vantage point it could detect the sound of the human stirring inside of the tube and its deep breathing as it filled its long unused lungs. With a low groan, a pale hand rose out of the cryotube to block the full force of the severe light.

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	4. The Man

Opening Note:

Four chapters in and you finally meet the other main protagonist! I suppose that's a bit of an indicator as to how long this fic will be, so there you go. I'm not going to set a finite goal for myself by giving a definitive final word count or anything of the like. I plan to write enough to finish my character's story, as WALL-E's obviously doesn't end here. No more, no less. To prevent spoilers, I've placed an updated disclaimer in the closing notes. So read on, review, and (hopefully) enjoy!

Have a nice day!

Ghost Duck

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Desolation: Chapter Four

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1004 was stunned. Laying in the exposed cryochamber before it was an actual human. A living, breathing human! Throughout the entire course of its existence the small robot had only been around humans for a period of two years and six months. Those thirty months were the most trying times in 1004's operational lifespan. The humans, almost as mechanical as the legions of WALL·Es they directed on Earth, began to lose their tolerance towards even the slightest error while they supervised the planet's recovery. The humans left behind to supervise were ruthless in their enforcement of the cleanup regime, and their misplaced aggression at the seemingly inadequate progress led to the damage or destruction of at least fifteen local WALL·E units, as 1004's records showed. The small robot tuned its focus back in on the human before it. Instantly the fear returned, constricting 1004's perceptual schematic tightly. 1004 grew concerned. Would this human punish it for not tending to the main directive? This scenario caused the small robot to regret once again that it had not found a better hiding spot.

1004's audio sensors were engrossed with the peculiar noises that the human inside the cryotube was emitting. The small machine's memory banks registered this long unheard noise as the sound of coughing. To support this observation, the pale hand above the steel cylinder flailed violently in synchronization with the coughing fits. Fifteen seconds after the fits ceased the hand lowered and grasped the right side of the cryotube. Subsequently, the human swung it's left appendage over the right side as well to pull itself upright. Now that it had an upper-body side view of the human 1004 could easily differentiate its gender. Based off shoulder size and body proportions, the human in question was revealed to be male. In addition, the man's upper body was exposed entirely, and as human culture dictated, this was not publically acceptable for females of the species. The decidedly male human had short strait brown hair, neatly cut but messy and disheveled due to the side effects of the defreezing process. According to various visual tests, 1004 placed the man's age somewhere between the ages of thirty and forty human years. The only eye that 1004 could see from its vantage point was bloodshot, and the iris was hazel. The human's Adam's-apple bobbed as he swallowed loudly.

The man blinked rapidly in a vain attempt to extinguish the "freezer-burn" effect of long-term cryosleep. The dilated eyes swiveled rapidly in their sockets, taking in their seemingly empty surroundings. With a series of maneuvers lacking greatly in grace, the man hoisted himself out of the container, revealing his skinny lower build. He wore a skin-tight red pair of standard cotton Buy N' Large undergarments that were also unfazed by the ravages of time. Not a single drop of liquid was visible on the man's build or the undergarments; leading 1004 to believe that the cryotube had completely evaporated the liquids in the canister. His whole body moved in tone with his breath as though he were incredibly weary; another negative side-effect of the cryostasis. The disorientation of the thawing process had not yet entirely cleared and the human seemed to have difficulty differentiating between various details in the room. He took four tentative steps towards the door and away from 1004's hiding spot. Then, the man proceeded to make two rotations while standing in the same spot. Likely he was searching for another human form, for the person who had awakened him from his ice nap. After these few moments of ambling about in the room, he collapsed to the floor and laid his back on the empty cryotube for support. His hands were lax as they lay on the reflective floor. Slowly the fleshy lids above his still dilated eyes lowered, blocking his vision. He held this prone position for a long amount of time. 1004 reluctantly began moving forward from its hiding hole. Perhaps if it made it to the door before the man's vision and senses returned…

"HELLO!?" The man's eyes shot open as he called out to nobody in particular, the single word writhe with implied desperation and a hint of fear. 1004 was startled, and it let out a shriek as it cubed up yet again and raced in full reverse back to its semi-hidden locale under the desk. The human jumped at the noise and the sight of the robot; the small machine had moved with such care before that it had not made a noise loud enough for the human to detect prior to its yelp. The man's vision fell upon the now-shivering rusty cube. Slim fractions of two lenses were visible as the robot peeped back. The man looked at the small robot with his head cocked, as his dazed mind tried to process the intense air of nostalgia this machine had about it. The human's mouth fell agape as the pieces came together and realization dawned.

"My lord… I never thought I'd see the day." The man blinked several times, his eyes still affixed on 1004. "Come here, robot. I won't harm you." 1004, knowing its position had been compromised, rolled reluctantly towards this strange figure. "Do you… know who I am?" 1004's eye stalks move out of their shell unhurriedly and its arms began to detach themselves from their bodily perches. The small machine trembled in trepidation. The man waited patiently, and when it became evident that no verbal reply was to be had, he chuckled lightheartedly, "No artificial speech synthesizers, eh?" He cleared his throat once again; evidently another side effect of the cryonics process was a temporary increase in phlegm production. "That's quite alright. I expected them to change the original up quite a bit."

At this, 1004 tilted its eyes in curiosity. What did he mean by _the original_? The man picked up on this and sighed, deep in contemplation. He paused for a moment to compose himself. "My name is Alan Lanning," The newly-decreed Alan Lanning began, his voice full of barely restrained enthusiasm and a prideful undertone. "I'm not sure how to say this, and I was always terrible at first impressions, so I suppose I'll just tell you; I'm the one who… designed you." He beamed at this last statement and looked to the machine for a reaction.

1004's optical lenses widened. "Woah," the robot vocalized.

Alan laughed in delight. "So you can speak? I suppose you're just a bit shy, then." The small machine nodded yes absentmindedly and held up a finger as if to say 'wait' as it searched through its memory database for the name in question. After running three additional redundant searches and finding nothing but a handful of schematics and design files attached to the WALL-E project, the robot cooed dejectedly in confusion and shook its head in the universal sign for no while pointing at Lanning. 1004 glanced inquisitively at the now-named Alan Lanning. Alan noticed the robot's questioning glare, and his brows furrowed as realization dawned. "You don't believe me?" Lanning asked incredulously, surprised that this machine who knew nothing of his existence until several moments prior was skeptical of his claim. 1004's unconvinced demeanor did nothing to dampen the man's enthusiasm, though. "Try searching WOBLE for employee number three zero one seven nine nine zero," he suggested with an unaffected energetic tone.

To someone unfamilure with the term WOBLE the recently unfrozen man would appear even more delusional than he actually was. To 1004, however, Lanning's mentioning of WOBLE eased the automaton's doubt towards the man's claims substantially. The Worldwide Online Buy N' Large Lynch Encyclopedia, (WOBLE) was set up to discreetly contain and conceal the achievements of the individual, putting more, if not all, emphasis on the group dynamic. It was developed in 2042 by Ford Lynch, the fourth Buy N Large Global CEO. Ford, being a human who valued being remembered above all other things, commissioned WOBLE's creation and had it named after himself. Only upper-tier BnL staff (and, of course, the supposedly soulless and mindless worker bots toiling endlessly below them) were granted the privilege of knowledge and access to the system.

1004 began running its internet access subroutines. The robot huffed mentally. It disliked the sensation of running subroutines. Subroutines made 1004 feel unnatural, or at least as unnatural as a machine could feel. Its "feelings" aside, the cubical robot proceeded with its task. 1004 entered the inactive digital blob that was cyberspace for an access point to WOBLE. Cyberspace was invariably strange. It was like an infinescimally huge library organized in the most maddeningly bizarre way possible. A library where whatever volume or novella you were searching for was within fingertip's reach, even if it was really located on the other side of the library. In addition, the 'books' you could choose from had the power to bring you to other books related to aspects of the first book.

Unlike the cyberspace library, WOBLE only holds information on Buy N' Large Club Card holders, which consists literally of the Earth's entire populace. In Lynch's encyclopedia, one could find personal information on the club card members, such as medical problems, marital status, shoe size, and favourite food. In addition to that, social information, such as occupation, lifetime achievements, and most importantly projects they were involved with, could be found on WOBLE. 1004's entrypoint into cyberspace, regardless of its location in the physical world, was always near an ominous "You Are Here" directory surrounded on all sides by a blank void. Knowing the location of the WOBLE gateway by its CPU cooling unit, 1004 found the gateway hyperlink instantaneously. With a mental click, 1004 was transported to the WOBLE directory.

Sure enough, immediately after the numbers were inserted into WOBLE's search algorithms they garnered the robot's desired results. The profile loomed before 1004's digital self.

Complying with BnL licencing and regulations, the lifetime achievements of a Club Card holder were to be saved to their WOBLE entry permanently. If these achievements included the design of an important advancement for human society, then they would be in the Card holder's file. Since this would definitively be the case, there would have to be a great number of documents relating directly to the WALL·E units to prove Alan Lanning's bold claim. For better or worse, this would be the end of 1004's doubts concerning Alan Lanning. It opened the profile.

Just as the seemingly insane man said, 3017990 was his profile. As the digital file opened, a flood of data bombarded 1004's perceptual schematic. Hundreds upon hundreds of files materialized before the robot's digital form, all under Lanning's BnL employee profile. At first, the files appeared to be routine. Thousands and thousands of bills, messages, statistics, and factoids populated the list before 1004. Some of the tidbits presented were quite important or useful, such as Club Card number, email address, traditional address, and Internet search history. However, most of the bits and pieces on the list seemed to have very limited application. Hairstyle records, dining expenses between the years of 2084 to 2085, amassed dental costs, lifelong employment records, online music purchase history, and...

Dual hydraulic shovel arm blueprints?

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Closing Notes:

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Disney/Pixar own WALL-E. I am in no way, shape, or form affiliated with Disney or Pixar. I am also not affiliated with Isaac Asimov or any of his works. (A cookie goes to whoever caught the small reference.)

I own Alan Lanning, Ford Lynch, and the concept of WOBLE. In the improbable event that someone wants to my ideas, feel free to. Please give proper credit, if you do.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. As you can likely tell, it serves as a loose introduction for Alan Lanning, who is going to be the other main character in this fic. Constructive criticism and comments are encouraged. Please let me what you think of this chapter and/or of the story. If you're feeling particularly inspired, let me know what **you** speculate will happen next in the chapter. I'd like that quite a bit. :D

Have a nice day!

Ghost Duck


	5. The Word

Opening Note:

Sorry for the wait for this chapter and the length. I wanted this chapter to be "soopOr speshul," in the sense of having a different feel, and it took me a while to get that feel down. I'm not confident that I pulled it off well, but I have this horrible tendency to dislike everything I do, so that's up to you and the other readers to decide upon. If you find any errors, let me know, and please review. I find reviews to be encouraging and very helpful, which is why I beg for them like a homeless man for change. Regardless, many thanks to those who have favored, reviewed, or set this story to their alerts, and enjoy this chapter.

Have a nice day,

Ghost Duck

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Desolation: Chapter Five

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1004's processors churned with a rhythmic hum as they read the file. Dual hydraulic shovel arms. The name seemed to resonate in 1004's mind. This single dossier, amid the thousands upon thousands of others surrounding the robot's digital self, forced 1004 to re-asses Alan Lanning. Originally, when it had unfrozen the man several moments before, 1004 was confident that the man's mental state was not within acceptable parameters. To claim the creation of a being you met less than five minutes ago was quite an odd thing for one to do. However, this singular file and the intimate knowledge needed to locate said file helped dissipate 1004's doubt. The cubical robot's software applications launched into action. The file was copied onto 1004's internal hard drive simultaneously as a refined search inquiry dug through Alan's many documents for similar files. As many of the documents vanished, a tingle of wonderment ran through 1004's circuits as it saw the number of documents left behind. At least a hundred blueprints, reports, notes, and order forms were left behind after the refining sieve that was the WOBLE search engine powered down. 1004 nabbed the closest bits of data to see if they were relevant.

Sure enough, they were.

The first five files alone were enough to prove Alan's statement. Each pertained directly to an integral part of the WALL·E unit; size 33 all-terrain modular tread material composition suggestions, low-convergence head mounted laser power output statistics, digital audio recording/playback module coding, advanced gyroscopic schematics, solar powered regeneration unit. Having vital parts of its physical form rattled off so casually made the cubical robot feel a humble respect for the man before it. After duplicating and saving the irrefutable proof that Lanning was its creator, 1004 closed the subroutine running WOBLE. The empty void of cyberspace vanished instantly, replaced with the bland white of the cryonics room and the accenting dull colors of the many lights, buttons, and levers embedded into the wall.

Alan's position had only slightly changed over the ten seconds it took for 1004 to search WOBLE and fine tune his results. As opposed to laying on the floor with his back propping him up, Lanning was now standing, with his right hand on the outer wall of the empty cryotube for additional support. His gaze was still affixed on the small robot expectantly. The small cubical robot snapped to attention with renewed drive. Programming commanded that it showed its creator respect. 1004's demeanor changed as the machine allowed its eye stalk to become ramrod strait and its treads to return to their original position. 1004's right arm sounded off a smart salute towards Alan Lanning as its eyes 'nodded' once. A brief but hearty chuckle reverberated off the chamber walls. "Oh, I'm honored, but please, no formalities. Those stiff-shirts in BnL's R&D department have no idea how to interact with people, and it looks like they rubbed off on you. Lemme show you how to properly introduce yourself." With great enthusiasm, Alan removed his right hand from the cryotube as he bound towards the small automaton. He gripped 1004's still saluting right metallic hand with his ill-matching fleshy human hand and proceeded to move both their hands up and down vigorously. "Alan Lanning." he labeled while gesturing to himself with his free left hand.

1004 let out an "Ooooh," in understanding as it relaxed. The robot moved its left arm towards the solar charge readout panel and indicated what appeared to be a worn down series of numbers at the bottom with one flat finger. Lanning leaned in and squinted, but sighed in futility several moments later.

"Sorry, little guy, but I can't make out what that says." The man ran a finger across the worn and illegible numbers engraved in the plastic display. "It looks like a serial number of some sort." 1004 nodded to support Alan's statement as it pondered a single particularly strange word the man had uttered. Lanning pulled his head away from 1004's rusting shell. "That's all right. I had designed you with the intention of being known as a WALL·E unit, so I guess I'll just call you by that name. Is that okay with you, little guy?" 1004 pulled its hand free of Alan's grip for a moment as it overwrote a seemingly unimportant part of its memory, trying to ignore the mentioning of that strange word again. While the former 1004 (now simply Wall·E) believed that modifying its self designation was not a good idea, it couldn't deny its creator's solution to this communication hurdle. As an added bonus, Wall·E was much easier to enunciate with 1004's limited vocal abilities. As soon as it finished saving this designation and overwriting 1004, it took Alan's fleshy right hand with its own metallic one, and shook both up and down vigorously. Shakily, it attempted to verbalize its new name while indicating itself with its free hand.

"Wha…" The small machine paused as it searched for a replacement for the corrupted parts of the audio file.

"Wah…" Another pause as an entirely new sound was generated by mixing the default sound clips pre-embedded in its memory. With a great effort the automaton compiled the soundbites.

"Waaahhlleeeee."

Alan beamed in pride. "Now _that's _how you introduce yourself. Good going, little guy." There was that word again. Lanning pulled his hand out of Wall·E's and teetered on the closest side of the cryochamber. "Gimme a second, Wall·E. I need to get my stuff. Then we can get outta this room and… " Alan paused as he considered their options. "Well, we can do whatever we want! I've got a lot of questions, like why they sent _you_ to wake me instead of the usual operator, but those can wait; I'll find someone who knows what's going on later. " As Lanning spoke, his lengthy arms grouped the inside of the chamber until a barely audible click rewarded his actions. A panel slid away, revealing a small hidden compartment. Lanning pulled a transparent plastic rectangle out of the now-exposed storage chamber within the tube. The plastic rectangle contained various fabrics folded into squares and two objects which Wall·E didn't recognize. Alan gripped a small metallic tag on the edge of the plastic rectangle and tugged. The contents of the plastic cube fell haphazardly to the floor as a loud zipping noise pierced the air. Wall·E backed up a meter. He was curious as to what this 'stuff' Alan spoke of was, but he didn't want to get in the way. As Alan unfurled the garments laying about the floor, it occurred to WALL·E that these were clothes; apparel processed and designed to protect humans from their environment.

"All of these are vintage 2035. They were made seven years before I was born. Trippy, huh? After Buy N Large ordered that only those new, red slimsuits were to be produced-I'm sure you've seen them- regular t-shirts and jeans like the ones I've got here became quite sought after." Lanning pulled a piece of white attire over his head, and expertly maneuvered his arms and head through holes obviously meant to accommodate them. The shirt was unremarkable and uniform white, save a small Buy N Large logo placed modestly on the front left shoulder sleeve. It had no pockets or storage devices to speak of, and the arm holes stopped at Alan's shoulders abruptly.

Next came the denim garment. This clothing article was much more colorful than its white precursor. It had a blue exterior that seemed to be composed of many different shades of blue. "Watch this." Alan instructed confidently. He held the item of clothing before him and let it unfurl. Two long cylinders of fabric fell barely short of the floor, conjoined by an almost boxy fold of fabric. With a swift motion, Alan hopped off the ground and forced his legs to find purchase in the attire's upper aperture. The instant before he hit the plastic floor he extended his feet through the bottom holes, absorbing the impact unharmed and landing on his feet. "Ta-dah!" Alan buttoned the pants up as he glanced expectantly at the minuscule robot. "How'd you like that, little guy?" As soon as the last word left Lanning's mouth, Wall·E decided that it would need to ask exactly _what_ its creator was referring to it as, since the man was clearly oblivious to Wall·E's ignorance of the word's meaning. It tried to ask Alan by pointing to itself while vocalizing the expression. However, for a moment the small cubical automaton found itself caught, unable to locate a file mimicking this word. Once again, Wall·E found itself holding a finger to the man's eager face.

Speech was a difficult thing for Wall·E to falsify. In human speech, one can talk and reply almost instantaneously due to the flexibility of the larynx. On the opposite side of the spectrum, robotic speech consisted of playing a sound file from a database, or blending archived audio files to create new ones. In order to converse fluently, Wall·E would have to generate new word sounds by mixing several of its defaults, such as its startup tone and fully-charged chime. While there were over a hundred reinstalled soundbites on its hard drive, there were few that sounded vocal enough to be mixed without taking several moments to merge.

After a few seconds of fumbling around in Buy N Large's Mix-A-Lot audio editor program, Wall·E managed to recreate the mysterious word Alan was repeatedly using to label Wall·E.

"Gah-aaiiee?" Wall·E tried as its eyes converged with the strain of speech.

Lanning froze and his gaze shifted slowly from his partially laced shoes, tied during Wall·E's brief foray into the digital world, to the cubical robot that had rolled up beside him expectantly. The man let out a long sigh, and the youthful vigor vanished from Alan's eyes as the breath left his lungs. Lanning no longer looked like the enthusiastic young man he had appeared as a mere moment ago. With that one word, all of his features seemed to sag. The bright fluorescent lights above seemed to berate him and make all of his movement laborious. With great effort, he hoisted himself upwards, using the cryotube for support once again. His now listless eyes fell upon Wall·E's, and he laid a hand on the robot's upper rusting exterior. Wall·E was perturbed. How could a single word have such an effect on the man? Alan moved his hand up and down on Wall·E's exterior in three slow, rhythmic motions. Quietly, he posed a single question to the robot that seemed to overshadow all of their brief yet positive experiences with each other from mere moments before.

"What did they _do_ to you?"


End file.
